Christmas 2007

I really loved this Christmas on Vancouver Island. It was M.'s first cold Christmas and I experienced the snow, the cold, even the family time totally differently with him. It's just fabulous to be grown and close to your siblings. You share the past with a promise of sharing the future.

Christmas 2007

We just got back from Vancouver Island and Christmas with my parents and sisters. My parents house is set up upon a mountain side in Maple Bay and has a beautiful view of the lake with snow capped mountains rising above. Instantly refreshing. Which is good, when you are spending five days in a house with your parents, husband, brother-in-law and sisters. We did have a really amazing time, though, and played board games (the essence of family-togetherness). Now, we're back and it's time to get a few things done and then slip into law school mode once again.

Happy Holidays!

Nearly Done

This is a picture of me, my sister M. and my dad at M's law school graduation last month. She and her husband are spending Cmas eve and morning with his family and, even though she'll be there for Cmas dinner, we'll miss her. Being a family of girls, we love all our self-imposed holiday traditions: watching an old movie (this year, I'm lobbying for 'Splash'), playing board games, eating and drinking and hanging out. I have been away for Christmas for far too long and it's so exciting to have my husband M. here with me this year. He flies in from Florida tomorrow afternoon. I can't wait. I may be at the law library finishing up this mammoth paper, but I can't wait to see him.
In other news, I have wrestling with this research paper for a few days now and still have a whole day of work ahead of me. Late nights. A few nights ago, after finishing with the paper for the night, I taught myself how to embed and while I won't perform this trick right now (as I still have to look up all the code and don't know it by heart) I am so glad to finally be a *real* blogger. Txs, Loxy, for trying to teach me years ago. If I was on my game, I would have embedded Loxy's name in this post. But I still haven' asked her if I can link to her? Can I? And H, can I link to you?

I'm Back!

My first post-exam, well, post. I still have a research paper I need to start on but for this morning I am just going to sit on the couch, drink coffee, flip channels and reflext on the last two weeks.
Law exams are so much different than any other exam I have ever taken. For law exams, it doesn't matter how much you know the material, it is how fast and how organized can you be in getting in all the elements in the answer. And, most importantly, correctly identifying the issues is everything. No matter how much work you do in an answer, if it's the wrong answer it's a big fat zero.
I can't pretend that taking these exams didn't deeply disturb me. It is clear that I need to do a whole lot more than just know all of the material by heart. I have to find a system to quickly and succintly identify the issues and sub-issues and hidden issues and non-issues and devote enough time to all of these while including little bonus tidbits. That is the only way to score a top grade.
Perhaps my first three months in law school were about learning what it takes to be a law student and these next ones are the most important.
I know I am going on and on, but honestly, I am shell-shocked by how difficult this all has been. When I thought I was so ready.

I know I said I wouldn't blog again until after exams...

...but I just couldn't stay away. Plus, I've studied pretty much on and off all day. Between short naps, lots of wine, coffee, obsessing over exams, calling my law school friends to obsess over exams, calling my husband in Florida to obsess over exams. I deserve a few moments on my blog...to obsess over exams.
But I'll spare you.
Instead, I wanted to blog how cool life is. I was was thinking about my life objectively (between obsessive-exam-type-thoughts). From the time I was six until I was a young teen, I lived in a very small town in a very small province in Canada that most people have never even heard of. I left that place forever at seventeen (after spending more than a few years away: first in Mexico, then in Puerto Rico). Through the power of facebook, I have "hooked up" with many old school mates. They are still there. Still in that small town, raising families or pursuing careers. It makes me think about the decisions I've made in my life and, gasp, I am actually grateful. Grateful for my life. I think I could honestly say I've had a cool one. Maybe even really lived. At least it's interesting. Judge:

1) spend younger life in strange hippie-on-acid existence
2) travel to Mexico alone at 11(eleven!) for entire summer and learn...well, that's another story...
3) live in Siberia, Russia and Southern Africa having many outrageous adventures and making life-long friends (and some great friends in Texas, too!)
4) move to Miami and model *dance on a LOT of tables* drink lots of Tequila
5) get serious about school
6) win scholarship to Oxford
7) graduate 3rd in class
8) get married in Oaxaca, Mexico in the middle of a riot to a wonderful, wonderful man
9) decide you hate yourself and attend law school in a beautiful, mountainous city

OK. So, looking at it from an outsider's perspective, I have experienced something in my life. I don't know if it's good or bad or indifferent, but it's something. When I had a choice between change and inertia, I chose change, even when it was scary. I am proud of that. And it feels good to be proud of yourself when you're going into something as scary and overwhelming as a law exam.

Couldn't help myself.

Exam Prep

Excuse me while I put my head down for awhile as I will be snuggling into a deep dark hole preparing for exams. I will re-emerge around Cmas with more posts. Cross your fingers for me!

I Miss My Baby

I got so used to having him here, just to have him ripped away again. This month better just fly by because a whole thirty days is too much. I love you, Baby, and love sharing my life with you.

Come home!

My Husband is Home and I Love Him!

We had a fantastic week:
1) He came in last Friday and we stayed in a nice hotel overlooking the river. Then, a nice big breakfast and I was off to the library (to write a paper, which I am supposed to be finishing now, but I'm writing THIS instead.)
2) Sunday, we went to Granville Island early in the morning, ate breakfast outside on the dock, browsed the fresh cheeses, breads, veggies and pastries and sipped coffee while picking out birthday gifts for family members. Then, we boarded a ferry to the Island with B.
3)Monday, we prepared a big feast for dinner (each of us made an appetizer and my sister and dad made Coquilles St. Jacques) and did some homeware shopping. Tuesday, my sister graduated from law school. Lucky girl! We took the late night ferry Tuesday night and I was back in class on Wednesday.
4)Thursday, Matt got hired here in Vancouver and is in the process of getting his work visa. He should be here for good by Christmas.
5)Friday. Matt met me at school after class and atteneded a comedy guild held by the law school every year where law students compete for a $1000 prize. V. funny and nice for me to enjoy that with him. Then, off to a romantic dinner in Point Grey, with lights in the trees and yummy butter chicken. Coffee and then home, where more wine awaited me. Thanks, Sweetie!
6) Saturday. I'm here in the library now. We did some banking earlier this morning and Matt is booking his ticket back to Florida. I'll miss him so much. Tonight, we have plans to see my siter in North Vancouver and then tomorrow morning back to Granville Island. Such fun having Matt home!

"What's Mine is Your's to Make Your Own"

Matt's home. I always forget how happy I am when he's near. The next ten days will be glorious! When I think about our relationship, this song fits pretty well:

The Fray: I Look After You

"When I'm losing my control, the city spins around
You're the only one who knows, you slow it down...

"It's always have and never hold
You've begun to feel like home
What's mine is yours to leave or take
What's mine is yours to make your own"

In honor of one of our first mutual interests, here is that song done to a Buffy montage.

"Did I ask too much? More than a lot?"

Today is my mother's 59th birthday. This song is for her.

Matt Comes Home Tomorrow!

Only for a week or so, but he's been so missed. It will be wonderful to greet him at the airport, hug him, kiss him, hold him tight. I miss all the small domestic things we always did: the morning coffee, discussing the news, diving up chores, deciding to be really naughty with an 11 PM snack.
I think once I remember what I'm missing, I'll never want to let him go.

Proud of Myself

Props to me! I've been so on the ball about my homework and doing small exams b/c my husband is coming soon and I want to have time for him. I haven't finished either paper yet (or, in the case of one of them, really started yet) but I am determined to do a lot of good work tomorrow and the next day. So, here's to that. Oh, and Loxy? Have fun in Mexico!

It Happened Again

We were in Criminal law class today discussing wilfullness and intent in relation to sexual assault when the prof. mentioned that sexual consent in Canada's criminal code is explicit only. No more implicit consent, as rapists have a tendency to see anything a woman does as consent (ie: if she struggles, she really wants it but wants me to know she a 'good girl'.) Guys in our class were snickering and muttering, "Guess we need to get signed waivers." Ick. After class, a friend of mine attempted to discuss the issues of implicit consent further with some of the guys from our class. I didn't get involved as I feel I'm still too emotional and raw about the issue and cannot engage in dispassionate debate. She didn't seem to get too far with them, maybe I'm wrong. I left right about the point where one of the guys was saying, "Even if 99% of the cases brought to court are true sexual assault" there are still a lot of innocent guys in that 1%. True male attitude: screw the 99% of women, we need laws that better protect that 1% of men. Yes, because white men need so much protection in this society.

I Got to School

I leave the house this morning at the usual time: 6:30. I used to leave earlier but now give myself an extra half-hour of sleep. 'Cause I'm lazy these days.;-) Anyway, I walk nearly all the five blocks to the bus stop and find the whole area blocked with police lines, police cars and, curiously, movie vans. Oh. So, I head up a few blocks and ask what I believe are policemen (in their reflective jackets) where to catch my bus. "We don't know," they reply. "We're movie people." Oh. I walk up to Starbucks to call a cab and overhear from a fellow coffee-sipper that the buses are being re-directed on another street. Since it's only 6:45 (class begins at 9) I walk over to that street and wait. And wait and wait. I see "my" bus zipping by without stopping. For although the buses are being redirected up this particular street, they are not stopping but rather using the street for access to get back on their normal routes. Oh. Eventually, I find a bus to talk me halfway, change buses and get to school. Ironically, though I feel I've trecked to Mecca, I'm still one of the first people here. Feeling of accomplishments ensue. Now, it's off to the library that just opened its doors to do a bit of Contracts work before class.
Take that, movie industry! You can't make me miss my morning class or pay for a cab. I'm a pernicious student!
Update: I found out it wasn't a shoot but a "shooting" as in drive-by shooting. Fabulous.

Another of My "Kids" All Growed Up

Such a beautiful young woman now but a naughty, naughty young child. Eww, so naughty: pushing me in pools, kicking me on the trampoline. She definitely gave her caretakers a run for their money. I knew her from age 4-6 and haven't spoken to her since but have watched her from afar. She has dealt with a lot of sorrow in her young life. I'm so proud of her for making her own way.

Celebrating Perspective

I am very proud to say that although I have spent all morning in the law library (with many hours of reading stretching out ahead of me), today is a day where I was able to keep perspective, remind myself that whether or not I grasp the intricies of contract law, the sun will still be there to shine for me tomorrow. I want to hang on to these moments, because such clarity is usually lacking in my life.

A Long Day is Ended

I am feeling very much like I've gone through my own civil war: making the long trip from North Vancouver to the law library in the morning rain. Then seven hours of research and paper writing, then home, dinner, three loads of laundry, hair wash and dry (a big production for some reason) and I should be printing off my research for tomorrow's paper but...I'm not. Done for the day. I'm sitting in front of the TV watching one of my favorite movies, "Gone with the Wind." In one hour, I hope to be asleep and gaining an hour. I love it when we turn the clocks back.

Mock Trial

I'm a witness in a mock trial competition at school this morning. I'll be grilled by the defence, so it should be nasty. Only one more week until my husband arrives! And my sister is coming for a conference next week, so I'll see her, too. In two weeks, she'll graduate from law school. So many fun things to happen in the next few weeks.

Trouble Sleeping

I have been trying to keep up with everything but am having trouble sleeping at night. Then during the day I cannot concentrate, I have difficulty keeping up with my studies. It's a vicious cycle. Luckily, my husband is coming next week! That's a great stress reducer. Also? We're getting a new bed next weekend. A brand new bed may help me sleep and it can't hurt. It may or may not help with my stamina. I'll have to wait and see.

Umbert the Unborn

Oh joy! Another reason why women can't control their own bodies and destinies: cute cartoons. Here is Umbert. Um...he's not born yet but has full cognition and a message to those selfish, irresponsible women who get preggers and don't want to be a mother: You owe me.
http://www.umberttheunborn.com/

Morning

It's 8:16 AM. I have already travelled forty minutes to school, had breakfast, checked my emails and all my favorite websites, studied fixtures in Property Law, read the Law and Equity Act and am now reviewing my Contracts Law. This is just for the record, so in future lazier days I can note how much I got done before 9 AM when I was committed to a cause, dammit.

Weekend is officially over

...and my next few days are literally jammed to the minute. How did this happen? I spent the weekend at the library and was there again all day today. The hours literally melt away without me getting all I wanted done. Only another month or so until mid-terms and I need to focus, get my papers written, study, outline. And, of course, spent time with my husband and see my sister graduate. Oooh, note to self: graduation ceremonies are long: bring some work in purse.

On What it Means to be "Masculine" in Today's Culture

This article is a disturbing look at the male culture of dominance. I have seen this played out many times, especially when alcohol is present but even when it is not. I often leave these encounters feeling helpless and enraged. Going forward, I don't know what my personal solution will be but perhaps mothers who speak more vocally to their sons about social roles will help future generaltions.

Where We Are Stuck
The Quagmire of Masculinity

By ROBERT JENSEN


Act I

I am having dinner on a Thursday night in a restaurant in New York's Greenwich Village with two friends I'm working with on a documentary on pornography. We've had a long day and are happy to unwind. Near the end of our meal, I'm increasingly aware of the rising volume from a nearby table, where three college-age men and a woman are talking and laughing just a bit too loudly. As it becomes harder to shut out their conversation, it becomes clear that much of the talk is about sex. The alpha male of the group (who is the boyfriend of the woman) is holding forth to the other two men about how to maneuver women into bed, including tips on the use of alcohol and a little bit of force when necessary.

As my friends and I get up to leave, I catch the eye of the woman, inquiring silently whether her situation would be improved if we stopped by the table and said something to the men. I read, or more likely misread, her expression as an invitation to do so. I trail behind my friends and stop at the table, trying to suggest -- in light-hearted fashion that isn't too confrontational -- that their conversation was not only inappropriate in a public place but unacceptable anywhere. The men don't take the critique well, and the discussion heats up a bit.

Finally, the alpha male makes a move to settle things by going for what he presumes to be the ultimate insult: "All I know," he says, smirking, "is that I'm going home with her (pointing to his girlfriend) and you're leaving with two guys."

Check.

I respond: "Please don't take this personally, but I just don't find you sexually attractive. I'm sure there will be a man who someday will, but it's just not happening for me."

Checkmate.

He accuses me of being gay. I accept the label and respond by telling him that, as a gay man, I can see into him and recognize him as gay as well. Not a smart move on my part, it turns out.

I quickly realize that things aren't likely to end happily, and I make my way to the door. One of his buddies follows me and, just as I'm leaving, says, "It's time for you to get the hell out of here." My hand is on the first of two exit doors, pushing it open. I say to him, "Where does it look like I'm going?" He grabs me and reiterates the command to leave. I reflexively push back. "Listen son," I start to say, reacting like an old guy to the 25 years between us. He's bigger than me but drunk. As I push back, he starts to fall. I head for the second door just about the time my friends have come back to pull me out if necessary. As I'm walking on the sidewalk outside, the other two young men have joined their friend in the doorway, cursing me with instructions not to come back, advice I fully intend to take. My friends hustle me away, walking quickly to get clear of the place just in case the men decide to follow. One of my friends, Robert Wosnitzer, explains that he grew up around guys like that. "Those are the kind of guys who carry baseball bats in the trunks of their cars," he says. "You have to be careful. They like this. They like to fight."

Once we're out of range, Robert and Miguel Picker turn to me and, appropriately, explain why I had better not pull such a stunt again. They count the four stupid men in that encounter: The alpha male, his two buddies, and me. They are right, of course. The fact that I wasn't as crude and violent as the other three hardly absolves me. I had taken an unnecessary risk, putting others in a situation where they may have had to fight or be hurt, and I had done it out of the same macho posturing. Once engaged, I refused to back down, even though there was nothing positive that could come of the encounter and a real risk.

Act II

The next day I fly to an academic conference. I am still somewhat shaken by the previous night, not so much by the potential for violence (though I'm not a particularly physically courageous person) but by my own misjudgment and the lessons in that for me. It's not what I learned about the world the previous night that upset me, but what I learned about myself.

So, I'm looking forward to a low-key interaction with other academics, who are usually pretty harmless. At the end of that evening I'm in the hotel bar with one female and two male professors. We all seem to be of similar intellectual and political leanings, and the conversation finds its way to contemporary progressive political movements, especially the antiwar movement. I offer an analysis of the state of organizing in the United States, which one of the men takes issue with. I respond to his critique, and all of a sudden the conversation kicks into overdrive. He comes back to my points even harder, getting visibly upset. He turns the discussion from an argument about issues to an attack on me, suggesting that I lacked his experience and knowledge (he's about a decade older).

With the previous night's conflict on my mind, I back off a bit, responding to his arguments but trying to lower the intensity; I am not in the mood for a fight, even verbally. He presses forward even more forcefully. At this point, the other two people at the table are visibly uncomfortable. I move to end the conversation, suggesting that some of our disagreements couldn't be resolved, that we were both arguing based on our hunches about complex processes, and that perhaps there was no point in pushing it. At this point, I don't care about winning the argument and want to end an exchange that is uncomfortable to the others for no good reason -- no baseball bats are going to come out in this encounter, but no one is learning anything from this. He pushes one more time, implicitly demanding that I surrender to his greater knowledge and insight. One of the others finds it intolerable and leaves, and the tension finally dissipates. The conversation returns to a lower level, but it's impossible to go back, and we quickly go our separate ways.

Act III

Sunday morning I'm on a plane heading home. Across the aisle from me is a man most easily described as a stereotypical computer nerd, in appearance and activity. He opens his laptop once we hit our cruising altitude and is buried in it the rest of the flight until the female flight attendant comes by during our descent to remind him to turn off his electronic device which might interfere with the plane's navigational equipment. He ignores the first warning. She comes by again with a polite second warning, which he also ignores. Finally, it's three strikes and he's out. She stands over him and explains -- politely, but with an edge in her voice that says "enough screwing around, buddy" -- that he must shut off the computer. I'm chuckling at the scene, until I see that he's angry. After the experience of the past couple of days, I'm not eager to be in the middle of another public expression of male dominance.

He looks up at her, his facial muscles tightening, appearing ready to tell her off, but he wisely holds his tongue. She holds her ground, and he finally backs off and powers down the laptop. Once she's convinced he's turned it off, she moves on. He sits, quiet but clearly struggling to control his rage. When she is out of hearing range, he looks over at me and, just loud enough for me but no one else to hear, mutters, "Bitch." A trace of a smile comes to his lips, and he turns away from me before I can respond. In his mind, he has won. A woman had been in a position of some small authority over him and had forced him to obey her command. But, in the end, she's just a bitch, and he's still a man.

Masculinity in three acts: Attempts at dominance through (1) force and humiliation, (2) words and argument, and (3) raw insults. Three episodes about the ways masculinity does men in, neatly played out during one long weekend. By the time I get home, I am tired. I am sad. It feels like there are few ways out.

But there is, of course, a way out. It's called feminism. It offers men a way to understand the nature of this toxic conception of who we are.

Feminism is a gift to men, if we are smart enough to accept it.

This essay is excerpted from Robert Jensen's new book, Getting Off: Pornography and the End of Masculinity, published by South End Press.

Musings

I am spending the rest of the weekend catching up on supplemental readings and research for papers. Friday night I spent with Karen. We watched "A Mighty Heart" about Daniel and Mariane Pearl. Daniel Pearl was the Wall Street Journal journalist who was kidnapped by jihadists in Pakistan and beheaded on tape. I watched a documentary on him a few weeks before my friend K. journeyed to that region with the Dept. of Defense and spent the whole time worrying about her.

"A Mighty Heart" showcases five-months pregnant Mariane who kisses her husband goodbye and never sees him again. Sobering to watch that film and think that this separation from my own husband could be forever. He is coming back here for a visit in two weeks and I am so excited. I can't wait to cuddle him on the couch, have coffee with him in the mornings, listen to him breathe at night.

I also bought a new laptop this morning and hope I have better luck then with the last one. I got a two year warranty and the computer is charging at the moment, so fingers crossed.

I call this, "Too Much Alcohol, not Enough Sleep"

This is the song that flashed through my mind on my honeymoon with my husband in Cabos San Lucas, Mexico, as we listened to the waves crash just feet away and feasted our eyes upon stars. I miss him so much, I think he'll be home soon, at least for a visit.

In other news, my most quoted movie (do you find yourself quoting one random movie more than others? This is mine) just released this poster to the sequel. Beyond words fabulousness. "I think Doogie Houser just stole my f**ing car."

One of "my babies" grows up!

When this beautiful bride was five, six, and seven years old she was my little doll. I stayed up with her when she was sick, I taught her school, gave her baths, fixed her hair, oh, a million times. Those enchanting blue eyes would pierce right into me and I would give in to her whims. Such a smart girl. I loved her, my little P.

And now she married and grown up with a baby of her own. I can hardly believe it. I feel so old and also sad that I missed a huge part of her life. She may not even remember me at this point.

There are others, too, children I loved and cared for who are grown. It's very odd.

Beautiful Things Day 8

Most of these "Beautiful Things" entries are from things I observe on my way to the library in the morning. Just the way it is right now. I spent the whole weekend devoting myself to papers, something I was hoping on Friday would only take one day. Humph, right.

In other news, hello to my gorgeous husband who is reading my blog for the very first time. I've had this blog for more than a years, so there's plenty here to read. I love you, Sweetie, and I can't wait until we're together.

This Song's Lyrics Changed My Life

Hero

I am so high. I can hear heaven.
I am so high. I can hear heaven.
Oh but heaven, no heaven dont hear me.

And they say that a hero can save us.
Im not gonna stand here and wait.
I'll hold onto the wings of the eagles.
Watch as we all fly away.

Someone told me love will ALL save us.
But how can that be, look what love gave us.
A world full of killing, and blood-spilling
That world never came.

And they say that a hero can save us.
Im not gonna stand here and wait.
I'll hold onto the wings of the eagles.
Watch as we all fly away.

Now that the world isnt ending, its love that Im sending to you.
It isnt the love of a hero, and thats why I fear it wont do.

And they say that a hero can save us.
Im not gonna stand here and wait.
I'll hold onto the wings of the eagles.
Watch as we all fly away.

And they're watching us
(Watching Us)
And they're watching us
(Watching Us)
As we all fly away.yeahaah

Nickelback

This song came out when I was re-evaluating my place in the universe. I had always believed I had a hotline to heaven and was surprised by the turns life took. It was this song that, in conjunction with realizations in my life, made me realize my future was completely in my own hands.

Thoughtful Happenings Day...7?

While walking to the library today, I passed the outdoor university pool, steaming from the hot water hitting the cold air. Four or five of the biggest pigeons I have ever seen (they looked like ducks) were walking around and into the pool, floating on the surface. The sight was so surreal that I had to look again and again just to be sure of what I was seeing. On a rainy, drizzly morning, it was a small moment of magic.

Papers and Rain do Not Mix

I got up early this morning and headed out to the law library. It rained all day. I guess that's ok, as I had a lot of work to do, but it was cold and dreary. I sat down to write two papers and only wrote one, as it took me long. Six hours! And this was for a paper that I thoroughly researched. It should have been practically written before I began. While others pursue a strategy of writing a paper the night before it's due, I need at least two days to write and then look over what I've written and polish. I can never write a paper and then deliver it the next day. It just wouldn't be my best work. Thus, the six hours on this paper today and many hours tomorrow on the next. Some of us will be getting together Monday to go over the main themes of our papers and compare. And then, on to new things!

Bridge Week is Over

Bridge week has come to an end and, after I finish writing these papers, it is back to focusing on preparing for Cmas finals. It was nice to have a break and stopping the everyday work of my regular classes made me realize how much I have actually retained.

A certain something to a lady that rhymes with Moxy Nady

I'm answering your answer to me on my blog (that apparently you and very few others read.) For my entire childhood and most of my early adulthood, I was perfectly content with the idea of a male-dominated existence. I thought it to be right, moral, the best way forward for humanity. I am not sure where exactly I began to question this and am even more unsure of when I "jumped the shark" and began to deeply internalize and rage against aspects of sexism blatant in society. In short, I am not comfortable in my skin and wonder if that's a good thing or bad thing.
Thank you for your support of my musings and for thinking these postings as anything intellectual and interesting. Two things I very much suspect I am not, but maybe I am. Law school has challenged the very core of who I thought I was: I believed I was withdrawn, poised, eloquent always. But I see myself through the eyes of my law school peers in my classes (a large handful of whom I have become close friends) and realize that I am, in fact, zany, outspoken, kind of goofy.
Living on my own without my husband has also been telling: coming home to an empty, cold apartment with hours of study ahead each night, has shown me my vulnerabilities. Did I make the right choice in not having children? Most days, I am content with the very deep bonds I have with my four adopted god children but sometimes I wonder what kind of mother I'd be, how I'd change.
I am beginning to ramble so I'll leave it here. Just...thanks for the imput. Your's is a life I am so curious and well, jealous of. I feel like being childless is an asset for motherhood. I have five younger sisters and countless friends with children. It seems in this man's world that the way to get ahead and change things is to stay in the game, something much easier for a career women without children to do. I want to establish daycare in firms, equal pay for women, the abolishment of the "glass ceiling." These things, I believe, will be accomplished by women who have the time to focus solely on their careers, coupled with the ability to emphasize with mothers' burdens.
My friend wrote that becoming a mother made her more of a feminist and I believe it has. It is only another part of the moral culpability we feel for our children, another way to raise them as respectful citizens.

Modern Feminist

I just read this on modernfeminist.com and it sums up so perfectly how I felt these past few weeks. Even though my law professors are all women and the classes I attend are half women, it is still, IMO, a very sexist environment. In my torts class, a handful of guys raised their hands and opined that women's past sexual history should be allowed to be submitted as evidence in a rape or sexual abuse trial. In my criminal law class, more than a few men were commenting on the "lack of evidence" in rape trials when all you have is the woman's testimony. "Oh," my criminal law professor inquired perplexed, "you don't understand how oral testimony is evidence?" It makes me sad and angry to know there are guys out there, sitting beside me, who believe women regularly falsely accuse men of rape and are more than willing to go through the horrendous process of a legal trial just to torture random men. It makes me sad that a woman can be sexually abused and the men entering the legal profession would submit any and every sexual encounter this woman may have had in the past as evidence that "she liked it."

I think it's sad that instead of addressing the violent nature of the rape culture in which we live, we cry foul when some young privileged men aren't better protected by the legal system. I think it's sad that we publicly disparage women who have to make difficult choices about the intersections of sex and money. I think it's sad - and sick - that we constantly question the legitimacy of rape charges when only 2-4% of rape reports are unfounded.

And it's personally sad that some of the worst comments I've received along the way have come from people I know: people who I see at conferences and pretend it never happened, people who think that spewing hatred on a listserv isn't destructive, people who don't seem to care if they disclose your personal information without consent. That's my name, dude, and I don't reveal it here for a reason. You know who I am? Bully for you (pun intended).

I don't suppose much will change. Haters will go on publishing personal information - from Kathy Sierra to the Duke lacrosse accuser - and we'll go on moderating comments. And we'll continue to lose valuable writers, videographers, and insight. A code of conduct won't do shit, in my opinion, and I wouldn't adopt it if a hierarchy of bloggers spits one out. Some brave women will continue to speak out and many of us will not. The risk remains too great, and the Duke case further cements that. I'm less afraid online than I am in public space, but I know that's not the case for many these days, and that too makes me sad.

But it's real.

Small Blessings

I just wrote three sentences about how I feel concerning this week at law school that I know realize could count as "questionable" to the Law Society. So, I erased them. See? I am learning.
In things to be grateful for, I went laptop hunting today and was fully resigned to being wireless-less tonight until I can get a new computer. And then my old laptop mysteriously started to work. I am happy.

Yippe Kayee M'er F'er

So yey! I got my second paper back from my Contract Law class today and did quite well. It's just a small percentage of my overall grade (most of the final grade is made solely of the final exam in April at the end of the term.) Since the beginning, I've been unpleasantly surprised with my lack of genius for the law. . I guess after years of pre-law, studying law related stuff for years, I am just not ready for the intricacies of early 19th Century Constitutional law. Quel surprise! I have been sort of quasi contemplating deferring law school for a year, as I miss M. so much and things are so lonely and difficult for me here. But I have made a gaggle of law school friends (and I'm not kidding about the "gaggle" part: for some reason, I am part of a group of nine or so from my school-assigned small group who have become really close) and they would vigorously object to me leaving. What would I do without my Goyes?

Connecting with Friends

Today, while walking to the library (or, more specifically, walking to the bus that would bring me to the library) I got a chance to have a lot chat with my old friend, T. She and I are facing very similar things are this time in our lives and the uncertainty of it all is difficult to face alone. While we are thousands and thousands of miles apart, in that thirty minute space, we felt so near that we could have been sharing a pot of tea. I am very grateful for the years of friendship I've had with T., starting very dubiously in the hills of South Africa and continuing on to the beaches of Florida, the grand halls of Westminster Abby, the views from the Grand Canyon. We've stuck together and the older I get, the more I'll want to connect with those who knew me while very young. I know this may be a rough patch for both of us, but I also know we will be there for each other on the other side.

Beautiful Stuff Day 5

Buying violets for my sick sister this morning before heading off to the library. I love this indoor/outdoor market a few streets down from my sister's apartment. The way the food is displayed, its proximity to the water and farmer's markets make me happy.

Counting my Blessings Day 4

Pretty self-explanatory. And yes, I usually do use a travel mug. In related news: Congratulations to Al Gore on his Nobel Prize win.

Something Beautiful Day 3

I need to to think happy thoughts fast. My computer is slooowly dying. I miss my husband. So, I need to look on the bright side: I'm healthy, I have love in my life, I'm exactly where I want to be (in school) and I have close friends. Maybe my computer is breaking but I am not. Here's the beautiful thing I saw today, as I was leaving the cafe on campus to start the five minute walk to the law school. Sipping my pleasantly-warm coffee with milk, I looked up to see this! (And yes, I am at school about half an hour before the sun rises. I'm just that good.)

Beautiful Glimpses Day 2

On the way home from school today, at dusk, I passed the beach. I saw it through the trees and it was beautiful. I need to see something beautiful everyday.

Draggin'

I got back from school today exhausted. I barely had energy to eat but of course I finished my property law readings and showered and went to bed. I wish I could say that things are just peachy, but this is a time for hanging on. I feel in many ways like I'm back in fall of 2005, when I missed my guy, I was uncertain and overloaded with work and I felt like I was just living for tomorrow. Then, moments of pure beauty, like when I looked up from the umbrella I had slung over me in the pouring rain to see a row of trees turned firey red and brilliant. So beautiful. I can hang on.

Schedules

I am trying to fit five more hours of study into my weekdays. Not an easy task when you have classes from 9-3, but I just haven't been able to read everything and absorb everything in the twenty or so hours a week I have been putting in. It's just so hard in the morning with this blasted Internet and a wireless connection everywhere I go.
This weekend is Thanksgiving and I'll be heading to the Island with my sister on Saturday to spend it with family. I wish M. could be here, I miss him so much. It would be his first Canadian Thanksgiving (hint: not about the Pilgrims). I also need to prepare docs for my "client" who it looks like we (me and another first year student) may actually end up representing. Yikes!

Legal Aid

So, here I am, three and a half weeks into law school and they're already giving us clients. Bring it on! I think I did pretty well, it was kind of unnerving at first, especially 'cause the first case was kindda intense. But I felt I did well. I need to do some research, advise my client, see if I want to go to court (hint: I don't. But someone else in the program could go for me.)

I Miss My Guy

With law school and all that entails going on, I didn't think I would have quite so much time to miss you. But somehow I always find the time--contantly.

Objects in the Mirror are Crazier than they Appear

Ever since I learned that the brain processes information received during the day while sleeping, I have been attempting to use that fact to my advantage in law school. So, before sleep I'll read a few pages of my casebook or notes. Also, I've been dreaming of being in class a lot lately so I figured that was my brain's retention powers at work, you know? But last night I dreamed I was riding the bus. That's the whole dream, just riding the bus. And I awoke angry at myself for not dreaming about school.

That's how you know I fit in perfectly here.

"I Mistrust You, You Mistrust Me, we're a Nuclear Family...

Interesting to see the President of Iran speak at Columbia University today. He is very well spoken but the things that come out of his mouth are...frightening and hilarious. Kindda like Fox News. He said Iran has no homosexuals. Well, yes, hold public executions in a fundamental Islamic state and you may be able to get most of the outspoken ones, with the rest going underground. I am disturbed, though, at the U.S.'s focused "gunning" towards Iran and President A. Cheney wants to attack them next. Will that happen? Also, Ahmandinejad is not as powerful as you would expect of a president of a sovereign nation, he must work with the clerics. So perhaps we are focusing too much effort on him as an individual.

Anyway, it just feels good to do something outside studying law for seven hours today. On my supposed 'day off' from class.

My Daze

I spend most of the weekend in the law library and leave feeling...like I should be spending more time at the library. In other news, two of the blogs I used to read went down this week. Inneresting.

"Hey, Freakshow?" "What?" "The Devil." "What?" "The Devil is Everywhere."

My absolute favorite scene from a movie with so many great moments:

Sobering and Sad

A student at the University of Floroda asked guest speaker John Kerry numerous questions about his run for President in 2004 and specifically why nothing has been done to impeach Bush in the Senate. The campus police arrested and tasered him because he would not relinquish the mic. The student was resisting arrest as far as not stepping away from the microphone but was no violent and, given the current political situation, the questions he was asking as a citizen are not unreasonable.

Scream My Lungs Out and Try to Get to You

Intellectual Property and Other Fun Thoughts

Had my first 'real' day of law school. It was interesting, no, it really was. I had done all my readings, so that made a difference. Tonight, I spent about an hour trying to find a change in IP law here in Canada that took effect January 1, 2005 but had to give up once bedtime rolled around. I am going to bed now, really I am. I get up early tomorrow to brief some cases. This is what I wanted and I'm happy.

I Miss You

It is so hard to be apart.

First Week of Law School

So, I made it through my first week of law school. And it was...fun! It really was. And exciting and a bit terrifying, which made it only more exciting. First hour, after sign in, we were introduced to our 'small groups' that is, twenty of us first years who will have all our classes together. And we mingle a lot. But I genuinely like a lot of these people and we are already talking about study groups. So, hooray.

Tonight, I went to our get-to-know-you dinner and tomorrow morning I head to the law library when it opens at 10 to start, you know, studying.

Good Luck, G!

My sister G. is off to Alberta to get her Master's in Physio Therapy. I'll miss having her around. She is always ready with a kind word and a smile and remembers to include everyone. After being a high school star athelete, she went to college and worked hard to get a Biology BS. She's driven, fun, and we wouldn't be the same without her.

Damn, what now?

I don't think I fully realized in the bustle of a big exciting move that starting over was just that, starting over. And, while there have been many moments of excitement over this move, there are also parts that really suck. Like today. We had our IKEA stuff delivered (thanks to Sweden for creating such an organized, efficient, cool store) and put it together. But getting my study room together just reminded me of all the other things we need. I look around this apartment that I love for its sparsness and it seems so, well, sparse. Is this what a thirty-two year old's home is supposed to look like? And then I remember, we sold all our assets. And another wave of hopeless despair sweeps over. Like? Did I forget I'm adult for the past seven years? What do I have to show for my life? A new desk from IKEA? I don't even have a car. What did I do to myself?
Next week, I start my first week of law school and I am already exhausted. M. is leaving next week to work in the States for awhile and I'll be all alone here. Alone with these bare white walls and a blow up bed. Ugh. I'm not happy with myself right now. I wish we had more savings. I wish we invested in stocks earlier. I wish we had assets. [A few months ago, my newly-come-into-her-very-flush-inheritence mother asked me what assets we had and was shocked, shocked, when I told her, 'well, none.'] Except, M's ability to work. And my ability to study, which won't pay off for years.
I know that by the time I'm 40, we'll have assets. Hell, we'll be swimming in them. Right. But I can't help but feel so hopeless about where I am right now: in a small apartment in the middle of a big city with no washer and dryer.

Why I'm a Feminist

In all fairness to this young girl, the question was quite a difficult one to answer on the spot. Especially hard to give the 'right' canned, answer. You know, the one that doesn't criticize the American educational system. But what makes this clip interesting to me is the play it gets on the Web and how quickly the chatter came up that this girl was a 'dumb blonde.' No, she's a dumb kid. As she grows older and more experienced in life, her vocabulary and ability to articulate will increase. While I am generally against beauty pagents, I do see the entertainment value they offer. On the other hand, I wonder how many misogynists look to these kinds of shows to re-enforce their view that all women are dumb, and the pretty ones even dumber. Many men, especially, love to see a woman trip up so they can feel superior and sneer.

Buh-Bye

The sad thing is, there is nobody better replacing him.

To My Husband

Maybe I'm Amazed

Baby, I'm amazed at the way you love me all the time,
And maybe I'm afraid of the way I love you.

Maybe I'm amazed at the way you pulled me out of time,
You hung me on the line.
Maybe I'm amazed at the way I really need you.

Baby, I'm a [girl], maybe I'm a lonely [girl]
Who's in the middle of something
That [s]he doesn't really understand.

Maybe I'm a [girl],
Maybe you're the only [man] who could ever help me.
Baby, won't you help me to understand?

Baby, I'm a [girl], maybe I'm a lonely [girl]
Who's in the middle of something
That [s]he doesn't really understand.

Baby, I'm a [girl],
And maybe you're the only [man] who could ever help me.
Baby, won't you help me to understand?

Maybe I'm amazed at the way you're with me all the time,
And maybe I'm afraid of the way I leave you.

Maybe I'm amazed at the way you help me sing my song,
You right me when I'm wrong-
Maybe I'm amazed at the way I really need you.

Maybe I'm a [girl], maybe I'm a lonely [girl]
Who's in the middle of something
That [s]he doesn't really understand.

Baby, I'm a [girl],
You're the only [man] who could ever help me.
Won't you help me to understand?

Oh, maybe I'm amazed,
Maybe I'm amazed,
Yeah, maybe I'm amazed,
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, maybe I'm amazed,
I'm amazed with you.

Dedicated to My Sister B.

A long time ago, I started to dedicate specific posts to each of my sisters and I never finished. Now to B: She was a wonderful little girl, so adorable and I loved to dress her up, play around with exotic styles in her hair and she always sat still for me, even if it took an hour or more to craft a new 'do.
As she got older and I was frequently away for months at a time, she would always cry as I said goodbye and made me feel so loved. She also made quite a bundle on me, as there were also many times I had to bribe her not to tell on me. A smart businesswoman already!
Once she became a young woman, our relationship changed from sisters to friends and she came to party with me in Miami, stayed with me for a week in Oxford, and has spent hours on the phone with me over the years.
Now, we are finally living in the same city and she has been the most helpful friend in my new situation. Not only did she pick us up from the airport when we arrived in Vancouver, she's also let us stay with her for days on end, found a bunch of free stuff to fill our apartment, and even drove the gigantic rental truck home so we wouldn't have to.
She's a capable, smart career woman who has thrived in a mostly-male field and has pursued her career advancement with courage and determination. She is finishing up a four year drafting degree and has already networked her way to being noticed by some of the business names in the business here in Vancouver.
During the riots of my wedding, we couldn't pick up my flowers anymore. I put B. in charge of getting more and, without me even being there, she was able to find exactly what I wanted and nix any I wouldn't.
It will be exciting to share this city with her in the years ahead.

Arrested and Booked for Wearing Protest T-Shirts

Another Dahlia Lithwick masterpiece. Read it and...weep.

Article URL: http://www.slate.com/id/2172500/

jurisprudence
Sic 'em With the Rally Squad
And other tips for dealing with demonstrators from the Presidential Advance Manual.
By Dahlia Lithwick
Posted Monday, Aug. 20, 2007, at 6:36 PM ET
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Late last week, the federal government settled a lawsuit with a pair of Texans who were arrested in 2004 for wearing anti-Bush T-shirts at a Fourth of July event in Charleston, W.Va. That's right, friends, $80,000 (of your taxpayer dollars) will be paid out to Jeff and Nicole Rank, whose suit against Gregory J. Jenkins—former deputy assistant to the president and director of the White House Office of Presidential Advance—has been dismissed.

White House spokesman Blair Jones managed to turn lemons into lemonade with the statement last week that "the parties understand that this settlement is a compromise of disputed claims to avoid the expenses and risks of litigation and is not an admission of fault, liability, or wrongful conduct." This is, of course, vintage Bush, gloriously reminiscent of that Simpsons episode in which Homer arrives late to collect Bart in the pouring rain after soccer practice, then lectures: "I know you're mad at me right now, and I'm kinda mad, too. I mean, we could sit here and try to figure out who forgot to pick up who till the cows come home. But let's just say we're both wrong, and that'll be that."

Because, you see, what the Ranks did wrong was attend an open-to-the-public, taxpayer-sponsored Independence Day speech by the president on the grounds of the state capitol, sporting homemade anti-Bush T-shirts. Their shirts had a red circle and a diagonal bar covering the word Bush. (His said, "Regime change starts at home," on the back; hers said, "Love America, Hate Bush.") The Ranks neither said nor did anything to disrupt the speech, but when they refused to remove their T-shirts, they were, at the direction of White House event staff, handcuffed, booked, photographed, and fingerprinted, charged with trespassing, and held for several hours in jail. (The charges were subsequently dismissed, and the city of Charleston has apologized.) Nicole Rank was also temporarily suspended from her job with FEMA.

The White House suggestion that, hey, both sides did something bad here, distorts one obvious truth: The only bad thing these citizens did was peacefully disagree with the president in an open political forum. And while Rush Limbaugh and Angelina Jolie may be able to get away with talking exclusively to people who worship them, the president should not.

The details of the Rank lawsuit and the cases involving similarly harassed folks are always fascinating: citizens removed from a Bush event in Denver because of an offensive bumper sticker on their car outside ("No More Blood For Oil"); a Tucson student barred from a Bush event for sporting a Young Democrats T-shirt; Wisconsin citizens forced to unbutton their shirts before attending a Bush speech, only to have an attendee wearing an anti-Bush T-shirt ejected from the event. But the best thing to have emerged from the Rank litigation was the official—if heavily redacted—Presidential Advance Manual (dated October 2002), which, although stamped "SENSITIVE" and not to be "duplicated ... replicated ... photocopied or released to anyone outside of the Executive Office of the President, White House Military Office or United States Secret Service," is now posted right here at the ACLU's Web site.

There is so much that is entertaining in the Advance Manual, it's hard to know where to begin. Sure, it's not a surprise anymore that it is official White House policy to use staff to foster "a well-balanced crowd," with well-balanced evidently defined as a subtle melange of those citizens who adore the president and those who revere him. The key to achieving such a balance, according to the manual, lies in "deterring potential protesters from attending events" and "preventing demonstrators." Nor should anyone be surprised that the president is to be shielded from dissent at taxpayer-funded presidential appearances and at "rallies, roundtables and tours" in equal measure. Only those individuals and groups that are "extremely supportive of the Administration" (emphasis theirs) will be seated in the area between the stage and the main camera platform.

The manual cautions that event staff "must decide if the solution would cause more negative publicity than if the demonstrators were simply left alone," but it's also full of ingenious ideas for dealing with a flare-up of dissent. Among the White House tactics are the subcontracting of censorship to event "rally squads" composed of helpful "college/young republican organizations, local athletic teams, and fraternities/sororities." (What, no mathletes?) These obliging rally squads can then "use their signs and banners as shields between the demonstrators and the main press platform." The use of a "long sheet banner ... in strategic areas around the site" is similarly smiled upon. Lest you believe that the Big Brother sheet represents the full extent of the speech suppression, however, the manual provides that, "As a last resort, security should remove the demonstrators from the event."

The Advance Manual's finest moments come in its urgent, earnest drive to protect not just the television cameras but also the president himself from the ugliness of the dread "demonstrators." Certainly, "if it is determined that the media will not see or hear" demonstrators, event staff can ignore them. But event staff must involve themselves in "designating a protest area preferably not in view of the event site or motorcade route." In other words, all this suppression of dissent isn't just to create a puppet show for the cameras. It's also about sock puppets for the president, who—if he could just be shielded from the mean T-shirts—might still believe his approval ratings soar into the mid-90s. The Ranks' peaceful protest at the West Virginia state capitol somehow became an act of "trespassing" only because the president was there.

It's disturbing enough to learn from the Advance Manual that the White House has adopted an official policy of shouting down or covering up dissenting viewpoints with large sheets in order to deceive Americans at home into believing the president is universally adored. But that this official policy also exists to protect the tender sensitivities of the president himself is beyond belief.

George W. Bush is certainly entitled to choose his White House advisers, attorneys general, counselors, friends, and pets based solely on the their inability to tell him no. The rest of us have increasingly come to question the wisdom of such insularity. We just can't do it in his presence.

Dahlia Lithwick is a Slate senior editor.

Goodbye, Serina

“What if I should fall right through the center of the earth... oh, and come out the other side, where people walk upside down?”--Lewis Carroll, Alice In Wonderland

Dahlia Lithwick is My Hero

Three years ago, I read this archieved article from Slate. Since then, I have printed it out, passed it along to others, countless times. Truly good advice. And, in a few weeks, I'll have an opportunity to really use it.







Letter to a Young Law Student
Don't go to law school: But if you must, take my advice.
By Dahlia Lithwick
Posted Thursday, Aug. 15, 2002, at 4:54 PM ET
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Article URL: http://www.slate.com/id/2069512/



I started law school 10 years ago this week. While you may be aware that I consider the law to be mostly very funny, I take law school pretty seriously. When I started law school I had no idea what I was in for: maybe some hybrid of debate camp and LA Law. In actual fact, for me, law school was a cross between boot camp and a cave.

Some small fraction of every incoming One-L class is comprised of people destined to take the legal world by storm. These are the people who intend to get straight A's, outline every case, make law review, clerk for a Reagan appointee, and spend the rest of their days in a leviathan corporate law firm where they will do whatever it is that's done in such places. These are the people law school was built for: people who think in zero-sum terms about everything—grades, jobs, and salaries. I wish them the very best of luck for the next three years. This advice is not for them.

This advice for the rest of you—who applied to law school simply because you took the LSATs, and who took the LSATs simply because the MCATs were too hard. This advice is for the people who graduated college with the generalized sense that they ought to be doing good works on this planet but were uncertain how to go about it. In short, this advice is for those of you who, like me, went to law school hoping that the experience would be stimulating and/or mind-expanding; a liberal-arts grad school for political people. Because you are doubtless trying to memorize the "blue book" this week, this advice is pre-outlined for your convenience.

A. Know Why You Are Going

As noted, the majority of people who get swept up into the law schools of North America are there as a result of inertia, career confusion, or some combination of both, and not a searing passion for drafting complex discovery motions. But that same inertia that swept you into law school may just sweep you into a corporate career in which you never had any interest. If you're at law school because you burn to work at a big firm, or because teaching torts cranks you beyond all imagining, have at it. But if you're there because your dad dressed you in Michigan Law footie-pajamas, or you love writing, or you vaguely hope to do something about the rainforest, you'll want to work hard to avoid being sucked into the screaming centripetal force that is the corporate law firm.


So, write yourself a letter. Quick, while you still can write. Write it, seal it, and then open it at graduation. Tell your post-law-school self what you'd hoped to do with that J.D. Acknowledge that you'll leave law school with huge loans, but you knew that going in. Tell yourself that if you take a job you hate in three years to pay off loans that don't exist until now, you'll emerge in 10 years in the same place you are today. Only balding.
B. Know Why You Are Not Going

If there is one law of law-school thinking it's this: "If everyone else wants something, I must want it, too." Not since the days of the Tonka backhoe and Malibu Skipper will you have so lunged for stuff in which you have no real interest, just because everyone else is lunging. Law school manages to impose odd new values on virtually everyone. And each step of the way, law students make choices—to interview with certain firms, take certain classes, apply for certain clerkships—based on an impoverished sense of other options and the fear that other people will get all the good stuff if you don't grab it. This is hard advice to give and harder, I expect, to take. Fear and conformity dig some pretty deep paths at law school. Don't just follow because they are there.


Ignore your grades. I mean it. Recognize that you will take some class pass/fail, study from the Nutshell the night before the test, and get an A, whereas you will outline some other class to within an inch of your life, teach a clinic on it, create an outline used by students for the next 70 years, and still get a C+ on the final. Why are all laws of intellectual physics so utterly upended at law school? Hell if I know. Something to do with forests and trees. But my advice is to just ignore the grades. Send 'em home and have your parents call you if you failed something. You will get a job. They don't matter. (Warning: If you don't look at your grades for two years, do not go back after graduation and ask that your con law professor change that C+ to an A. She will laugh very hard and tell you it's a "badge of honor.")
C. Have a Life

Someone in my One-L class rendered me semi-autistic in the first semester of law school by suggesting that I'd probably flunk out because I used an orange highlighter. The only person stupider than the moron who said that was me—I changed highlighters. No matter what your original values and habits would dictate, within a matter of weeks you'll be convinced that outlining every case, sucking up to every professor, and spending every non-class hour in the library are the only ways to survive, and that suffering is somehow rewarding and character-building. Mmm. Maybe if you're a pilgrim.


I had, for the first six months of law school, only one vector. I traveled from the dorms to the law school. After breakfast in the dorms I went to class in the law library, and from there I went to dinner in the dorms, which led inexorably to an evening in the law library. Another trench—leading from my bed to the law buildings—from which I was too freaked out to climb out. Somehow one night I ended up in some courtyard in the pouring rain, and then there was a Rodin sculpture and after that, the moon, and I went home and read some Shelley. The next day I felt like I'd gone on a three-week crack bender. Or like I'd had the best conjugal visit ever. Get out. Go to movies. Volunteer someplace. Make friends with the people at Starbucks. Get drunk but kiss someone when you're actually sober. Do anything to remind yourself that there is a life out there, and that missing one night of reading will not turn you into someone who lives in a garment box under the freeway.
All this advice is probably extreme and excessive. Your parents will probably set my house on fire for providing it. But read it anyhow. And think about it. Life is short. Misery is overrated. If law school is what you really want, then do it as yourself and not as if you were in a movie about Harvard men in the 1920s. Learn, question, make a precious lifelong friend, ignore the guy in the bow tie, and smile at the people hunger-striking for the ninth consecutive cause. Use an orange highlighter. Dig your own path. You may pop out in the moonlight. You'll probably be a better lawyer for it.

Dahlia Lithwick is a Slate senior editor.

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